


Interitus

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: The Seidhrman [8]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch gives birth to their baby, but all does not go well.</p><p>Please note that this story is set in an Alternate Universe, where people have different standards from our own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interitus

It was the month of Decemberis. The days were short, and the nights were long. Soon, it would be the longest night of the year. Hutch laughed whenever Starsky pointed that out, saying that in Norway, the longest night of the year lasted twenty four hours, and the sun never showed her face above the horizon, whereas here in Rome, the Goddess Sol still drove Her fiery chariot for all to see.

That was fine with Starsky. He did not miss the endless nights in Norway. The only good thing he had found in Norway had been Hutch. Hutch and Viggo, he amended, watching as the great wolf licked Hutch's hand. They were decorating the new Hall for Yule. Yule was a Scandinavian festival that Hutch felt a yearning to celebrate, and Starsky was eager to give his spouse anything she desired. The Roman villa that was their main house was not built for the huge Yule log fires that such a festival required, but the old stone house in their new property next door was perfect. They'd had a big new fireplace installed, and Hutch had ordered Yule logs from her homeland. Now, they were decorating the hall with banners, and candles, and great boughs of holly.

Hutch was very pregnant. Her body was carrying Starsky's baby. In a few days, if all went well, they would be parents, and Hutch would return to her male form. Hutch would be relieved. Starsky would be happy for him, and it would be wonderful to see his lover's masculine face once more. But Starsky felt a small twinge of regret. He loved Hutch's feminine body as well, and he would miss it. Of course, if he was very good, perhaps Hutch might agree to take female form once in a while, though Starsky had his doubts he could convince him to get pregnant again.

Hutch was singing a Yule carol. Something about holly and ivy and the rising of the sun. Appropriate, thought Starsky. Soon, Sol would be rising earlier and setting later, and this was something to celebrate. Also, here in Rome, it was nearly the end of the year, and the Festival of Calends. A time outside of time. Slaves were free. Married people were unmarried. Whatever you did at this time, must be forgiven and forgotten when the festival was over.

Starsky watched his lover as she handed a bough of mistletoe to Mariko to hang in a doorway. She said it was a custom of her homeland, that any two people who stood under the mistletoe must kiss. Starsky didn't like that idea, and said so. He threatened to challenge anyone who kissed Hutch under the mistletoe to a duel. Hutch said she had no appetite for bloody hearts at the moment, and told him to behave himself, or he'd be sleeping in the barn with the other animals.

Starsky loved sleeping with Hutch. Hutch was warm, and comfortable. Right now, Starsky could put his hand on her belly, and feel the heartbeat of their baby. He could feel it kick her, and wriggle its tiny body around in preparation for being born. Lately, after a time of drought, they had started making love again. The midwives said this was a good idea, that the release would make Hutch more comfortable, and help her sleep.

Hutch smiled at Starsky across the Hall. She was wearing one of her most beautiful red gowns, and her hair was up, and wreathed with flowers. Her eyes were bright and her skin was glowing. It had been a long time since she'd had one of her seizures, and they knew the baby was healthy. Starsky smiled back.

Hutch gasped, and clutched her belly. She cried out, and Starsky ran to her side.

'Call the midwives!' he ordered, and Ignatios ran to do so.

'I'm fine. Really I am,' said Hutch. 'It's probably just a twinge, but... Oh! That was fast. Too fast. They shouldn't be that close together. Starsky! Hold my hand. It hurts.'

Starsky led Hutch over to one of the sofas, and helped her to sit down.

'Starsky!' she said. 'I think I'm really having this baby. I hope it's ready to be born, because it's going to be born whether it's ready or not.'

The midwives joined them, looking dubious, but after talking to Hutch, they changed their minds. They helped her into one of the nearby chambers and chased Starsky out.

'This is a Woman's Mystery,' they said. 'No man may witness a birth. You know that, Mr. Starsky.'

'Mystery?' asked Starsky. 'What mystery? I know how babies are born. They get out the same passage they got in.'

'Really Mr. Starsky,' said one of the midwives. 'Don't be crude.'

She shut the door in his face, and he was left to pace up and down in the hallway, and listen to Hutch moan as the labour pains increased.

'I'll go in, and keep her company, Honoured Father,' said Mariko. 'Don't worry. She's in good hands.'

He sent a message to Marcus and Sweet Angel, and they joined him in his vigil. He could hear the women in the labour room chanting, calling on the Goddess of Childbirth. He was praying to every God and Goddess he knew, and some he made up on the spot, to be on the safe side. Hutch's cries of pain were growing louder. Marcus said that might be a good sign that the baby was nearly born. Sweet Angel was looking worried, however. She'd decided earlier that Hutch probably had a large enough audience already, and that she wouldn't bother her, unless Hutch asked. Now, she got to her feet and started for the chamber.

'I'll go and see how she's doing, David,' she said.

Before she reached the door, however, Hutch gave a great scream, and called a name.

'Starsky!'

Starsky ran to the door, and kicked it in, ignoring the cries of outrage from the other women inside. Hutch was pale, and covered in sweat. The bed was running with blood. One of the midwives had a baby, all wrinkled and red, in her arms.

Hutch's eyes were wide and frightened.

'Starsky,' she said. 'Hold my hands. Hold my heart.'

Starsky pulled her into his arms, and held her close.

'It's over, beloved,' he said. 'The baby is here, and everything is fine.'

'No,' she whispered. 'The baby is well, but I can't hold on. Hold me, Starsky.'

Hutch's heart stopped beating.

Starsky watched as his lover's eyes dimmed. He felt her body change in his arms. It was slack, and empty now. Starsky had seen many people die, and he knew the signs, but in this new context, the signs made no sense. Other people died. He had never really believed that Hutch would die. Hutch was a Shaman, and a powerful Mage. He had died already, by all the Gods. How could he die again?

It was dangerous for a woman to give birth, he knew. As dangerous as going to war was for a man. But he had never believed that Hutch would die giving birth to their baby. Their baby was a special miracle, even more miraculous than other babies.

He gazed into his lover's cold eyes. He shook her, but she made no sound.

'Hutch!' he screamed. He heard voices far off in the distance. Wails of grief, as his household mourned. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into Marcus' eyes. They were streaming with tears. Mariko and Sweet Angel were weeping, and tearing their hair and clothes. Viggo was howling.

'Marc,' he said. 'Hutch lost so much blood. Do something, Marc. Put it back. Someone put it back.'

'We can't, David. There's nothing we can do. I'm so sorry.'

Starsky realized then that it was true. Hutch had died. It was impossible, but she had died. He let her fall back onto the bed. He supposed he was wailing with all the others, but all he knew was that he felt as cold and empty as the grave. He lay down beside her, as if he were joining her in death.

*********************

Starsky had no idea how long he'd been lost in darkness, or what had roused him from it. Then he heard a strange sound, a high wailing, much more piercing than any of the other wails.

'Who's that?' he asked.

'Master?' asked one of his slaves. He couldn't remember her name, but then, he wasn't sure of his own.

'Who is crying?' he asked. 'It sounds like a baby.'

'It is, Master. It's the baby. The baby that was just born.'

'Why doesn't someone take care of it?' he asked.

'We can't, Master,' she answered. 'You haven't accepted it.'

The world reeled around Starsky. He had forgotten the baby. Hutch's baby. The baby Hutch had died bringing to life.

'Bring it to me,' he whispered.

The child had not been cared for, but that was his fault, not the fault of the slaves. Any new-born baby had to be accepted by the Paterfamilias, or his representative. Before then, it was not human. If Starsky wished, he could lay the child out on a hillside above Rome, to die. Or, the theory was, to be taken in by a childless couple, and raised as their own.

The child was a boy. He had Hutch's light blue eyes, and Starsky's dark, crinkling hair. His face was red, and twisted with fury at being neglected. He was demanding to be cared for and loved. Yes. He was their child.

'Send for the nurse,' he ordered. 'The child is my son.'

He cradled the baby in his arms, and nestled back against Hutch's side. They were together, for this short space of time, he thought. Soon, Hutch would be gone, forever.

***************

It was a cold, grey morning. Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch lay beside him. Her body had been washed, and dressed in one of her robes. White, not red. White for death.

He looked around the room. Everyone was asleep, worn out from mourning. Even Viggo was sleeping, curled up on Hutch's cold feet, as if to keep them warm. Nothing would warm them, now.

Off in a corner, the nurse was feeding their baby. Starsky got up from the bed, and walked over to her chair. The baby looked much happier now. He was washed, and fed, and dressed in one of the beautiful robes that Hutch had prepared for his birth day.

The nurse looked up at him. 'He's a beautiful baby, Sir,' she said.

'Of course,' said Starsky. 'He's Hutch's baby.'

He reached out, and touched the baby's hair. The baby woke up. He looked up at his father, and his eyes were so old, and so wise, and so much like Hutch's. Starsky felt a wail rise up in his chest. He managed to hold it in until he got out of the room. It would not be good, he thought, to frighten such a tiny child, on its first day in this world. There would be time enough in his life, to learn what grief was.

Starsky wandered over to the villa courtyard, and sat down on Hutch's bench. He remembered the night he'd spent here nine months ago. Hutch had been abducted, and Starsky despaired that he'd ever find him.

Viggo trotted out to join him. He nudged Starsky's foot, and whined.

'I'm sorry, Viggo,' said Starsky. 'We can't go looking for Hutch this time. He's dead. He's on his way to Elysium, or whatever the Vikings call their Land of the Dead.'

Viggo whined again, and looked around the courtyard, as if he expected Hutch to come walking in. Could Viggo see Hutch's spirit? That was possible. Starsky had never seen a spirit on his own, only those called up by Hutch. Gillian, and the Hooded Spirit.

Gillian. The Hooded Spirit.

Where were they? Had they been set free by Hutch's death? Or were they still bound to him? Were they on their way to Elysium, as well? If they'd been set free, shouldn't the Hooded Spirit be wreaking havoc, creating despair in every available living soul around? Especially in Starsky. The Hooded Spirit hated Starsky. Without Hutch to control it, the evil spirit surely would have occupied Starsky's body by now. It must still be bound to Hutch. That was interesting. Even in death, Hutch was powerful.

Viggo nudged Starsky's foot again, and turned to look off into the distance. East. No, not East, Starsky thought. North East. Toward the Apennines. The mountains. Hutch had loved the mountains. That was where he should be buried, not here, in one of the stone houses of the dead, but in the wilderness. In the mountains. Starsky remembered the morning he'd found Hutch out here in the courtyard, looking for the mountains. Had Hutch's search been prophetic? His spirit might be looking for the mountains at this moment, if he hadn't already found Elysium. Starsky wasn't an expert on the souls of the recently dead, but he remembered that they stayed around their homes and families for a time. How long a time? Could Starsky communicate with Hutch somehow?

Viggo barked, and turned to look once more toward the Apennines. Perhaps Hutch was talking with Viggo, and trying to tell Starsky what he wanted. Hutch must want to be buried in the mountains, and whatever Hutch's spirit wanted, that was what Starsky would do.

'Honoured Father?'

Starsky turned. Mariko was standing behind him, her beautiful face worn with grief. Starsky got to his feet, and took her in his arms.

'Yes,' he said. 'I am still your father. We're still a family. If that is what you want.'

I must be strong, he thought. This familias wasn't what I wanted for my life. It was what Hutch wanted. What he needed. His own familias was cold, and unloving, and he longed for the closeness we created over the last year. But now, I can't just abandon our family. Mariko and Sweet Angel. The baby. Ignatios. The slaves. They all need me, so I must be strong. I must accept that they belong to me, that they're mine to protect and care for, even if I must do it alone.

Someone stepped out of the villa, into the courtyard. He was carrying a knife in his hands, and offered it to Starsky, hilt first.

'You told me once that you wanted to kill me for what I had done to Ken,' Cecil Hutchinson told him. 'You said that if he died, our armistice was over. Here. Take your vengeance. His death is my fault.'

Starsky stared into the man's eyes, trying to judge if he were sincere. It seemed unlikely, but he was standing there, unarmed, and offering his bared chest for Starsky to cut open.

'His death isn't your fault,' Starsky told him. 'It's mine. Giving birth to the baby killed him, and I was the one who made him pregnant in the first place. If anyone should die, it should be me. But I don't have that option. And I can't stand around and argue over who is to blame. My familias needs me. We have to arrange Hutch's funeral, and take care of his baby. Why don't you do something useful for Hutch, for once in your life? Go, and call the household together, so we can pray for his spirit.'

Cecil Hutchinson looked as if he wanted to protest being given the duties of a servant, but he nodded and put away his knife and went to do what he was told.

**********************

Starsky stood in the doorway of the Atrium, gathering his strength. His familias was waiting, and he must lead the prayers for Hutch's soul. Mariko and Sweet Angel stood one on each side of him, and Marcus was behind him. Starsky held Hutch's baby in his arms. The tiny child was asleep, full of milk and his family's love, and at peace.

As they walked into the Atrium, the household fell to their knees.

'Last night, we lost a member of our familias, and gained a new one,' said Starsky. 'My lover, my husband, and the mother of my child has left me, to journey on to Elysium. I will never cease to mourn him, and I will take no other mate, and I would go to him in Elysium, but he gave me an important charge, when he died. He left me this child, and all of our family to care for. Our daughters will help me with this, and we will neglect no one. Before we pray for Hutch's spirit, I want you all to welcome his son into our family. My own familias came from a place called Judea, long ago. I have decided to give this boy a name from my homeland. I name you Aaron. It means 'light', because you will be my light in the darkness.'

'Fiat!' said the household, with one voice.

Starsky laid the baby on the household altar, and prayed to the household Gods to accept their new charge. Beloved, if your spirit is still here, watching to see what I have done, be at peace, thought Starsky.

***************************

It was the noon hour, before they set out for the Apennines. The cortege was made up of every limousine in the Imperial household, and an honour guard of Praetorians. They carried the Imperial banner with them, edged in white. White for death.

The Emperor and Empress had come to see them off, dressed in mourning, their hair shorn, and their faces streaked with tears. 'I have placed the Palace in mourning, until the evening,' said the Empress Makeda. 'Hutch was Marcus' foster brother, and I loved him as my own son.'

Starsky remembered the last time they had visited the Apennines, in the late fall. Hutch was already heavy with child, and not very comfortable, but the dangerous time had passed. She was no longer having seizures, and it seemed certain that she could carry the baby to term. They had spent several nights sleeping under the stars. Making love in the woods, on a bed of dry leaves, wrapped in a blanket.

Now, Starsky would bury him there.

It was almost dark, when they reached their campsite. Most of the household was with them, but not all. Some servants had stayed behind to care for the villa, and to pray to the household Gods. Starsky had not left Aaron at home, however. He intended to care for the baby, as if he had been his mother.

They set up a camp, and built a pyre for Hutch's body. Starsky would light the fire at dawn. Viggo watched the building of the pyre for a while, then barked at Starsky, and took off into the woods. Starsky wondered if Viggo would ever return, or if the loss of Hutch meant he would find a wolf pack, and become its alpha male.

It was completely dark, and very cold, before all the preparations were finished. Viggo had not returned, and Starsky felt lonely. But the wolf was a wild animal. His only true tie to the world of humans had been Hutch's love. Starsky leaned back against a tree, and watched the campfire burn. He imagined the flames licking Hutch's flesh. The fiercest of all lovers, burning him down to the bone, and freeing his spirit to journey to Elysium. Starsky must remember that. Hutch would be in a better place, where there was no pain, only endless peace. One day, Starsky would join him there, and they would never be parted. He could tell Hutch that he had cared for their familias, and their baby, and that all was well with them. Hutch would be happy, and they would love each other until the end of time.

Starsky closed his eyes, and imagined that scene. Hutch would smile, and take Starsky's hand. He would not have noticed the passing of time. Hutch would be young, no older than when he had died, though decades may have passed. He would wonder why Starsky's hair was white, and why he was so wrinkled. He would laugh, and kiss Starsky, and Starsky would explain, and tell Hutch all that had happened. 'Thank you, my love,' Hutch would say, and they would walk together through the green hills of Elysium, forever.

Starsky felt a cold nose touch his hand. He opened his eyes. Viggo was sitting there, watching him. He held a branch of some sort in his teeth. He dropped it at Starsky's feet, and glanced over his shoulder, toward the fire. What was this?

Viggo nudged the branch, and Starsky's foot, and looked toward the fire again. He seemed to be saying that he wanted Starsky to put the branch in the fire. Well, perhaps Hutch was communicating with him, and this was his idea. The wolf was nervous around the fire, and couldn't get near enough to burn the branch himself. Starsky got up, and put the stick into the fire. After a few moments, a pungent smoke rose from the flames. Starsky coughed, and started to look for the pail of water to put the smoky fire out, but the smoke was making him dizzy. It was filling the entire campsite, and his calls for help were ignored. Everyone seemed to be deeply asleep, and thus they didn't notice when, a few moments later, a line of dark grey wolves strolled into the camp, and sat down in a circle around Hutch's funeral pyre.

Wolves! Starsky remembered the wolves that had joined them at Perugia, just outside the forest of Leprosus. Hutch had turned into a wolf himself. The Goddess Hecate and Her Hounds had come, and.... Were these the same wolves? And if so, why were they here? To sing Hutch to his final rest?

Viggo licked Starsky's hand, and tugged at it with his teeth. He looked over at the other wolves. Perhaps he was asking Starsky to join them. Starsky supposed he could. Everyone else was asleep, drugged by the smoke. That smoke still drifted about the campsite, creating an eerie sense of unreality. A wisp of smoke would drift across the funeral pyre, and Starsky would imagine for a moment that it was Hutch's ghost.

Hutch's ghost. Did Starsky want to see Hutch's ghost? Would the pain of seeing Hutch, but not being able to touch him, be too much to bear? Would Hutch's ghost recognize Starsky? Would Hutch's ghost blame Starsky for his death, the way Starsky blamed himself?

Starsky joined the wolves in their vigil beside Hutch's body. The night wore on. The smoke continued to drift about, making Starsky's head spin. He would feel drowsy, and almost fall asleep. Then the smoke would clear, and Starsky would wake and look around. The wolves would still be sitting by the pyre. Waiting. Waiting for what? Starsky would wonder, and almost turn to ask Viggo. The smoke would drift by again, and he'd forget his question.

The moon rose. It was a full moon. That was strange, thought Starsky. He was sure that the night before, the moon was... A puff of smoke made him dizzy. He forgot about the strangeness of the moon. The wolves were howling, now. Raising their heads to the sky. They howled at the moon, and Starsky felt the urge to join them. Something was crawling up his spine, something wilder than he'd ever known. Grief, he thought. The grief of losing your mate. Not only someone you loved, but the one who shared your soul, so that now, and forever, until you died and could join him in Elysium, you were condemned to wander the earth with only half your soul. The other half would be always calling to you to join it. Every night when you fell asleep, you would almost wish not to wake up here, in this world, but there, in the next world, with the rest of your soul.

Starsky howled with the other wild wolves, and the night was filled with their music. The music of grief. The music of sorrow. The music of mourning for your soul.

A cloud covered the moon. Only the stars, and the flickering, smoky campfire, lit their world. That, and the gleam of wolf eyes. The smoke was drifting, drifting, drifting. Starsky began to see shapes in it. Shapes of ghostly wolves, and of the ghostly deer the ghostly wolves were chasing. Was he witnessing the drugged dreams of the other wolves? Why wasn't he having his own dreams? He didn't want to see the ghosts of deer. He wanted his own Ghost, no matter how angry he might be.

'Hutch,' he whispered. 'Appear to me. Let me beg your forgiveness. I didn't have the time, before you died.'

A white ghostly figure rose from the pyre. It floated gracefully to the ground. It looked around for a moment, as if confused, then started off, into the woods.

'Hutch!' Starsky cried. 'Wait for me. Don't leave without saying goodbye.'

But Hutch ignored him, striding into the darkness, naked and alone.

'No, I won't let you go alone,' said Starsky. 'Come on, Viggo. Let's protect him, this one last time.'

Viggo and the other wolves joined him, following Hutch on his journey to the Land of the Dead.

********************

They had been travelling for two days now, or two nights rather, for the sun had never once risen above the horizon, though the moon was full the whole time. Of course, thought Starsky. This is winter in Norway. We are in Hutch's world, the world of his memories. Perhaps this time is before he met me, and that's why he doesn't even see me. Perhaps that's why he won't let us stop and rest. He doesn't know I'm here.

Starsky kept following, unwilling to give in, and let Hutch journey to the Land of the Dead alone. Starsky was tough, and he'd taken part in forced marches before. But finally, on the third night, he broke down.

'Hutch. Beloved. Please listen. You're a Shaman, even if you are dead. You can hear me if you try. Please, let's stop for a while, and rest.'

Hutch stopped in his tracks. He turned and stared at Starsky, as if seeing him for the first time. He didn't speak, but he nodded.

The wolves hunted, and Viggo brought Starsky a rabbit. Starsky built a fire, and roasted the meat. He found some dried berries, and the roots of wild onions. There was a stream nearby, and they all drank. All but Hutch. Hutch stood like a statue, staring ahead toward the rising mountains. They were barely visible, lit only by the moon and the stars. They loomed before them, like the promise of a future in Elysium.

Starsky lay back against the roots of a tree. He didn't want to close his eyes, but they grew too heavy to keep open. He was sure Viggo would wake him, if Hutch started off again.

Starsky was awakened not by Viggo, but by Hutch. Starsky felt the coldness of his presence, pushing him rudely aside. He opened his eyes, and looked up to see Hutch staring down at the roots of the tree where Starsky was sleeping. Hutch pulled at a root, and the ground gave way, and opened under them. The roots of the tree formed stairs, into the earth, and Hutch started down. Starsky followed.

The world under the ground was darker than the endless night of a Norway winter. Here, they did not even have the light of the full moon to guide them. Starsky followed Hutch, and Viggo followed Starsky, and the wolves followed Viggo. Deep, deep into the earth they went. Down, down the twisted roots of the tree. Below them, Starsky could hear the clang of hammers, and he could smell smoke. What tale was this he had fallen into?

They emerged at last, into a large chamber lit by many fires. Short, squat men were running about, forging metal into swords. No. Not men, thought Starsky. Dwarves.

'Nibelung,' said Hutch. It was the first word he had spoken since he rose from his funeral pyre.

'Nibelung,' Starsky agreed, though the word meant nothing to him. If Hutch said these were Nibelung, then Nibelung they were.

Hutch turned to him and smiled. 'We're journeying together, I think,' he said. 'Travelling down Yggdrasil. To her very roots.'

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Yggdrasil.'

He knew that name. Hutch had told him about the World Tree. They were travelling the World Tree together, and Hutch had seen him, even if he didn't know him. Starsky would remind him who he was. Who they were.

'We have been on the World Tree together before,' he told Hutch.

'Have we?' asked Hutch, clearly amazed.

'In our dreams,' said Starsky. 'Or our visions, if you like.'

'Then we know each other? I don't remember your face. You must have changed it. You're a trickster, like Loki. But that's good. Loki is my favourite God. After Odin, I mean.'

'Loki,' said Starsky. 'Odin.'

Hutch smiled in agreement.

A dwarf -- a Nibelung -- called out a challenge.

'Who goes there? Who enters the Realm of the Nibelung without permission?'

Hutch stepped forward. Starsky, Viggo and their band of wolves followed.

'A ghost,' said the dwarf. 'A ghost, and a Shaman, and their familiars. Is this a spirit journey?'

'I am trying to find my way to Valhalla,' said Hutch.

'Well, you're going the wrong way,' said the Nibelung. 'Valhalla is that way.' He pointed up.

'Down there you may speak with the Norns,' another dwarf told them.

'We will do that,' said Hutch. 'Since we've travelled so far.'

'Stay here tonight,' the first dwarf suggested. 'Your companion looks tired, and hungry.'

Hutch nodded, and they joined the Nibelung for supper.

 

***************

The Nibelung were a jovial bunch when it came to eating and drinking. They sang Nibelung songs, in their own language, and Starsky sang along, making up his own words. Once or twice, he noticed that Hutch was watching and listening and almost laughing. Starsky nearly forgot his grief. Hutch was with him, even if he was a ghost.  
The Nibelung began to tell stories. Stories about the Gods, about swords, and golden rings. Hutch added his own tales. Odin, and the World Tree. Loki, the God of Fire. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

I took him from his own land, Starsky thought. And then I killed him. I only wanted to love him, and protect him. But it all went so wrong. He closed his eyes.

He felt a soft, cool, mist brush against his face.

'You are sad,' Hutch said. 'What's wrong?'

Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch was leaning forward, almost touching him. Starsky longed for that touch, but he would never feel it again. How could he explain that to Hutch, without causing him unnecessary sorrow? Hutch had died, and was on his way to the Land of the Dead. How could Starsky burden him with his own guilt?

And yet, how could he lie? How could he pretend not to love Hutch? Pretend they were only accidental companions on this journey?

'You said we were friends,' Hutch pointed out. 'Can't you tell me what's wrong?'

'I want to tell you, but I'm not sure I can. Or that I should.'

'Why not? I should know the truth. Don't try to keep it from me.'

'The truth might hurt you,' said Starsky.

'I'm a ghost. How can I feel pain?'

'You might, if I reminded you of your life, and the pain you felt then.'

'But all life is pain. If you feel pain, you're alive. Death is painless, and joyless. Right now, I'm numb. But I can feel sympathy for your pain. That means something, I know. Something important. Explain it to me.'

'You are a ghost, and I am still alive,' Starsky told him. 'We can't touch.'

'And this hurts you?' asked Hutch.

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'We were very close. But it is my fault you died.'

'Is that why you're travelling with me? Are you bound to me, somehow?'

'I couldn't let you go on to the next world alone. I had to watch over you. Be sure you were safe. Yes. I'm bound to you.'

'I wish I could remember you, but my memories are all jumbled. I seem to be several people. One of them was a woman. She was a good person, but she made mistakes, and caused pain to others. Then, I am a man, an evil man. He killed many innocent people, by intent. Did you intend to hurt me, or did you make a mistake?'

'I made a mistake,' Starsky told him. 'But I love you. The mistake was made out of love. But Hutch, you are not that woman, or that evil man. They are spirits. You bound them to your spirit, and so they travel with you, to the Land of the Dead.'

Hutch seemed to search his own soul for a moment, then nodded. 'Thank you,' he said. 'You are right. I'm beginning to see more clearly now. I can almost remember you, and that is good. We are journeying to speak to the Norns. They spin the threads of all the lives in all the times in Middle Earth. They will tell us why the threads of our lives are so entwined. You should sleep. When you've had enough rest, we can set out again.'

Starsky agreed. His grief felt lighter, now that he had talked with Hutch, and found some forgiveness. They had a long journey ahead, to speak to these mysterious Norns. Starsky closed his eyes and slept, curled up next to his love.

***********************

It was Viggo's warm, rough tongue on his face that woke Starsky. The wolf's eyes looked concerned. Hutch was staring down the trunk of the World Tree, clearly needing to move on. Starsky found a jug of water, and had a long drink. He grabbed a loaf of bread and wrapped it in a discarded napkin. Viggo and the other wolves had hunted, it seemed. One of them was finishing off the remains of a rat, or a mouse. Good, thought Starsky. As long as you don't expect me to eat it.

Hutch was distant again, almost as if he'd forgotten Starsky. Almost, but not quite. He didn't speak, but he did seem to notice if Starsky slowed down, and he waited for him. Once, when Starsky stumbled on a twist in the Tree's root, he reached out to catch him, stopping just before his hand would have touched him. Or not touched him, thought Starsky. That thought scared him, that Hutch would touch him, and his touch would pass right through, as if Hutch were not really there.

The hammering of the Nibelungs faded into the distance. This far into the earth, Starsky could feel the oppressive weight of the world above. The weight pressed on him, at times almost crushing him. It awoke terrifying images in his mind. Images of the ground collapsing above, and burying them here forever. Then, he would look ahead at Hutch's ghostly figure. If they were buried by the earth, they would be together. A niggling memory came to him. A memory of a vow to take care of someone. There was a reason why he should not die, here with Hutch. But the darkness of the depths of the earth had begun to erase all his memories of the world above. The world of daylight, and the rising of the sun.

He heard rustlings in the earth around them. Small creatures going about their daily lives. The shifting of the earth, as something heavy moved above. The soft sounds of distant music. The turning of a spinning wheel. Voices.

'The Norns,' said Hutch.

'Who are the Norns, Hutch?' asked Starsky.

'Past. Present. Future. Fate. Becoming. Necessity. They live at the root of Yggdrasil, and They spin the web of fate for all men.'

'The Three Fates!' said Starsky. 'And we're going to talk to Them.'

Hutch nodded. Starsky shuddered.

'Are you cold?' asked Hutch.

'No,' said Starsky. 'I'm afraid, and I'm not ashamed to say so. How many men meet Those who can decide their fate with one stroke? The Norns could end my life in an instant, if They wanted to.'

'They're nice women,' said Hutch. 'Mostly.'

Starsky could hear the voices again. They were chanting, and as Starsky came nearer, he could make out the words.

'In the midst of darkness, light; in the midst of death, life; in the midst of chaos, order. In the midst of order, chaos; in the midst of life, death; in the midst of light, darkness. Thus it has ever been, thus it is now, and thus it shall always be.'

'Amen,' said Starsky.

 

Once again the darkness was pierced by the light. This time, however, they were not in a fiery chamber, like the underground land of the Nibelung. This world was vast. The vastness of Eternity spread out before them. In the centre was the base of Yggdrasil. Vast branches and roots of the World Tree spread out in every direction.

Three women tended the Tree. They dipped water from a well, and poured it over the roots. One of Them was old, and she looked over her shoulder constantly. The second was middle-aged, and she looked bravely forward.

The third was young, or appeared to be, from what Starsky could tell. But her face was veiled. She held a closed scroll in the crook of her elbow.

'The scroll tells what the future will hold,' said Hutch. 'Skuld does not want to read it, and I can sympathize.'

'Is that why you didn't want to discuss the things you said when you were ill?' asked Starsky.

Hutch had visions, when he was taken by the seizures. He had spoken of things that might happen in the future. But when Marcus and Starsky tried to discuss his visions with him, Hutch had turned their questions aside. Had he foreseen his death? He had spoken of blood. Perhaps he meant his own blood, that he lost when he gave birth to Aaron.

Hutch turned to him. 'Was I ill?' he asked. 'Is that how I died?'

'No,' said Starsky, quickly. He didn't want to tell Hutch how he had died. Why had he come on this journey with him? Just as in life, so he did in death. He caused Hutch pain, without intending to.

'Then how did I die?'

'You died in childbirth,' said Starsky.

Hutch simply stared at him. He seemed to have lost the power of speech again. Starsky looked away, unable to bear his lover's silent scrutiny. The Norns were dipping water from the well again, and the sight made him thirsty. The three women moved off to water Yggdrasil. Starsky walked up to the well, and lowered the water pail. He raised it again, full of water, and dipped some out with his hands. The water tasted strange.

'What are you doing?' called one of the Norns. It was the oldest, the one who kept looking back. The other Norns turned as well, at her cry.

'I was thirsty,' said Starsky.

'You drank from Urd's Well,' said the youngest Norn. What had Hutch called her? Skuld. That was it.

'I am sorry, Skuld,' said Starsky. 'I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I was thirsty, and the water looked good.'

'It should be good water,' said the oldest of the Norn. 'My well taps into the Water of Healing. That is why we pour it on Yggdrasil.'

Water of Healing? Starsky looked at Hutch. Could the water heal him.

'Your friend cannot drink the water,' said the middle-aged Norn. 'He is a spirit, and spirits cannot drink.'

'Then what good is the Water of Healing? What good has it done for me? I'm not the one who needs it. It is my friend who needs it, and I can't give it to him. Can I pass on the healing to him?'

'Don't question the judgements of the Orlog,' said Urd, the old one. 'Lest they turn on you, and render worse judgement.'

'The Orlog?'

'The laws of the universe,' said Skuld. 'Even we obey them. The Orlog must have led you here, or you would not have found your way.'

'But why did you come?' asked the middle-aged Norn.

'Verdandi wonders that which we all wish to know.' said Urd.

Hutch stepped forward. 'I died once before, long ago,' he said. 'I was looking for the Tree Spirits who took me to Yggdrasil. I wanted to go home.'

'Is this home?' asked Urd.

'Not exactly,' said Hutch. 'Something feels wrong.'

'Something is wrong,' said Verdandi. 'You are looking in the wrong place. You are looking in the past for your home, but you have moved on. You should be looking in your present.'

'The past influences the present,' said Urd. 'It is a very powerful force.'

'Yes,' said Verdandi. 'But it is not this man's home.'

'Where is my home?' asked Hutch.

'With your heart,' said Urd. 'Find your heart, and you will find your home.'

'How can I find my heart?' asked Hutch. 'A spirit has no heart.'

'Hutch,' said Starsky. 'You gave your heart to me to keep for you. How can I give it back?'

'You can't,' said Verdandi. 'Such a gift is not returnable. You belong together, through all Space and Time, on all the branches of the World Tree.'

'Then what shall I do?' asked Hutch. 'I am a spirit, and he still lives.'

'Either he must die, or you must live again,' said Skuld.

'I would die for Hutch,' said Starsky. 'But our familias needs me. We have a child, a new-born son. How can I leave him?'

'Then Hutch must live again,' said Urd. 'You must petition the Orlog.'

'How?' asked Starsky.

'I will read the Web of Fate for you,' said Verdandi. She walked over to a large loom, and studied the Web that hung there. Hutch was staring at the veiled Skuld, as if she fascinated him.

'Why do you stare at me?' asked the Norn.

'I have met you before, I'm sure.'

'I don't remember you,' said Skuld.

'Of course you don't remember me,' said Hutch. 'You see only the future.'

'No. I fear to see the future.'

'I know. I see the future myself. Sometimes. When I am ill. I forget the present then, so I understand. The present depends on the past. The future depends on the present. What depends on the future?'

The conversation was becoming difficult for Starsky to follow. He walked over to Urd, and bowed.

'You remind me of a friend of ours,' he said.

'Ah. The Goddess Mlukukh,' said Urd.

'Yes. The Goddess of Love. She has recently renewed her powers, and is wreaking havoc in the Subura.'

'Good,' said Urd. 'I approve of feisty old women. But you have a question to ask me, don't you child?'

Starsky supposed he was a child, in Urd's eyes, so he didn't begrudge the title.

'I was wondering about Hutch,' he said. 'Why does he insist that I'm his Lord, and then not obey me?'

Urd laughed. 'Do you want him to obey you?' she asked.

'No!' said Starsky, horrified. 'Of course not. Not usually, at least. I'm just curious why....'

'You hold his heart in your keeping,' said the Norn. 'He bows to that guardianship. To the supremacy of Love.'

'I see,' said Starsky. 'I think.'

'Good,' said Urd. 'I approve of men who think.'

Verdandi had finished her perusal of the Web. 'The Orlog may be petitioned through an intermediary,' she said. 'Go to Valhalla, and ask Odin to intervene.'

'Odin!' said Hutch.

'Yes,' said Urd. 'Odin is a Seidhrman, like you. He understands the powers of a shaman, better than we do.'

'Then we must climb back up Yggdrasil?' asked Starsky, wearily.

'No,' said Verdandi. 'Valhalla is ahead of you. There.'

Starsky looked where she pointed. He could see a great rainbow. 'But the Nibelung told us Valhalla was up there,' he said, pointing up. 'And you were below us.'

'You have come around in a circle,' said Verdandi. 'Like the serpent who bites his tail. Just walk ahead, and over the Rainbow Bridge, and you will find Odin.'

'Thank you,' said Hutch. And he led Starsky on, toward Valhalla.

**************************

'Valhalla is the home of the Gods,' Hutch told him, as they walked. 'The only mortals who can go there, are men who die in battle. You are not dead, and I died in childbirth. That is strange to me. I didn't know I was a woman.'

'You were only a woman temporarily,' Starsky explained. 'You wanted to try it out, to see what it was like.'

Hutch turned to him, astonished. 'Really,' he said. 'Well, I found out, didn't I?'

They walked on.

'I was joking,' said Starsky, after a while. 'You turned into a woman to escape imprisonment and torture. Then, well, you got pregnant.'

'By you,' said Hutch. 'That's why you think it's your fault I died. Well, it wasn't, so get over your guilt. I know one or two things about myself. One thing I know, is that I do nothing that I'm forced to do. Not by you, not by anyone.'

Starsky bowed his head.

'The other thing I know, is that I love you. I don't remember you, but I remember that I love you. I don't know why I love you, but who understands love? It is a force of chaos and a force of darkness, I think.'

'I think it's a force of order and light,' said Starsky, deeply offended.

'They're the same things,' said Hutch.

Starsky decided to give up trying to understand Hutch. They walked on. The Rainbow Bridge drew nearer. A God guarded it, and he shone like the sun, like Apollo.

'Bifrost,' said Hutch. 'The Bridge to Valhalla. That is Heimdall, the God who guards the bridge. By all accounts, he shouldn't let us in....'

'You were sent by the Norns,' Heimdall called out, as they approached. 'I heard you converse with them. Odin is waiting.'

Heimdall smiled a golden smile, stepped aside, and waved them on, across the Rainbow Bridge, that Hutch called Bifrost.

The bridge was indeed a rainbow, and Starsky didn't dare to look down, after his one terrified glance. He was walking on air, over a bottomless gorge. Across the bridge lay Valhalla, a great golden hall, and he concentrated on its beauty, and on Hutch's words. Hutch loved him. Hutch forgave him. Hutch didn't think he had done anything wrong.

Two huge ravens flew to meet them.

'Huginn and Munninn,' said Hutch. 'Thought and Memory.'

The ravens flew around them, then led them on, into the golden hall of the Gods.

Odin sat upon his throne. He stepped down as they entered. He was tall, and dressed in tattered, but colourful rags. His hat was tilted over one eye. The two ravens flew to the God, and landed one on each shoulder.

'Well,' said Odin. 'Look what the Norns have sent me.'

'They said you could help us, Odin,' said Hutch.

'And why should I?' asked the God.

'Yes, why? We are not warriors who have died in battle.'

'But you could be, they say. They have read interesting things in your web. They say you share one soul, and one heart. I think that's a handicap, but they don't agree. Women are sentimental. But the Norns should not be ignored by anyone, not even by me. So, I have agreed to help you. I will fly you back to Midgard, on my horse Sleipnir. But at a price. Everything has a price.'

'What must we pay you, Odin?' asked Hutch.

'I don't know,' said the God. 'What do you have to give?'

'Hutch has nothing,' Starsky spoke up. 'He's dead, he's a spirit, he doesn't even have a coin to pay the Ferryman.'

'He is a spirit, or rather, he is three spirits bound in one. A true bargain,' said Odin. 'But you. What do you have to give me?'

'I'm not sure what you want,' said Starsky. 'Or need.'

'Well,' said Odin. 'How much is your friend worth to you?'

'I would die for him, if that's what you want,' said Starsky.

'And what use would that be to me? I don't need your paltry life. No. Let's see. When I hung on Yggdrasil for nine days, and then I travelled to the Well of Mimir, I gave one of my eyes for the Water of Wisdom. Perhaps you could give me yours?'

'My eyes?' asked Starsky. 'You want my eyes?'

'One of them,' said the God. 'Is that too high a price?'

'No. Not at all.' And with those words, Starsky reached for his knife.

'No!' Hutch cried. 'Starsky? What are you doing?'

Hutch reached for Starsky, trying to stop him, but his ghostly hands went right through Starsky's body. Starsky stabbed his knife into his own eye, and cut it out. He held it in his hand for a moment, then offered it to Odin. One of the ravens flew to Starsky's hand, and picked up the eye in his beak. He flew back to Odin, and dropped the eye in Odin's hand. Odin popped it in his mouth, and swallowed it.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Very tasty. Payment accepted. Let's be off. It's getting late, and I want to be home before dark.'

Odin led them out of Valhalla, out to the glorious, flowery meadows beyond. He whistled, and a horse appeared.

'Sleipnir,' said Hutch, and his voice was filled with awe.

The eight-legged horse ran up to Odin, and nuzzled his ear. 'Will you carry us to Midgard, my friend?' asked the God. Sleipnir nodded. Odin climbed on the horse's back, and reached down his hand to Starsky, to help him up. Hutch climbed up easily, floating off the ground. He weighed nothing, and Starsky wondered how he would hang on. But Odin gripped his arm, as if it were solid, and they started off.

'Wait!' said Starsky. 'Viggo and the other wolves are waiting back at Yggdrasil.'

'Sleipnir cannot carry them,' said Odin.

But Hutch whistled, and a flock of black ravens joined them. 'Viggo is a shapechanger, just as I was,' he said.

Viggo settled on Hutch's shoulder, and the other ravens flew with them, down, down to Midgard. Sleipnir seemed to run through the air, rather than fly.

It had been a bright sunny day, at Valhalla, but as they flew back to Middle Earth, the sky grew dark. The moon was full. Hutch's body still lay upon the pyre. Their familias slept around the campfire, just as when Starsky left them to follow Hutch. Starsky climbed down off Sleipnir's back. Hutch floated off, and rejoined his body on the pyre. The sky was beginning to grow light at last. The night was almost over.

Odin joined Starsky beside the pyre. 'You know,' said the God. 'I wasn't joking when I said such a deep attachment was a handicap. You have given up an eye for him. What more will you give up?'

'Whatever it takes,' said Starsky. 'But that's none of your business, even if you are a God. And I thank you for your help, but now I must live my own life as I see fit.'

'Of course,' said Odin. 'But you know things won't get easier. He has forgot who you even were, several times already. He'll forget you again.'

'He didn't forget me completely.'

'Have it your way,' said Odin.

'Thank you. I will.'

Odin picked up a dry stick from the ground. 'Loki!' he cried. The stick burst into flame.

'Here!' said Odin, handing Starsky the burning brand. 'Light the pyre!'

'What!' said Starsky. 'But you said that Hutch would come back to life.'

'He will. Light the pyre.'

Starsky took the fiery branch, wondering if he should trust this command. Gods could be as untrustworthy as mortals, if not more so. But Hutch had seemed to admire Odin, for some incomprehensible reason. Starsky walked up to the pyre, and lit it, ready to jump on it and die with Hutch, if he didn't rise from the dead as promised. The flames rose higher and higher. They were bright, almost too bright to watch. All around them, their familias was waking. Marcus got up, and came to Starsky's side, rubbing his eyes.

'I'm sorry, David,' he said. 'I meant to watch beside you all night, but I fell asleep.'

'That's not your fault,' said Starsky. Mariko and Sweet Angel awoke too, and they cried as the flames surrounded Hutch's body.

'Hutch!' Starsky called. The flames had covered his lover's body now, and Starsky was terrified. Odin must have tricked them after all. But why go to so much trouble?

'Hutch!' he called again. He started toward the pyre. Marcus grabbed his arm.

'I know, David. But you have to accept that she's dead.'

'No,' said Starsky. 'You don't understand. Hutch!' He called Hutch's name for the third time, pulled loose from Marcus' grasp and ran to the pyre. The heat was almost unbearable. He started to run right into the flames, but they began to die down. Hutch was still lying on the pyre, but his body had returned to its male form. He sat up, and looked around. Starsky fell to his knees, sobbing.

Hutch climbed down off the pyre, and joined Starsky on the ground. He lifted Starsky's head, and touched his face. The fingers came away covered in blood. Mariko and Sweet Angel gasped.

'David?' asked Marcus. 'What happened to your eye?'

'I made a bargain,' said Starsky. 'But I got the best of it.'

The ground seemed to whirl around him, and then come up to meet him. He was glad that Hutch held him close, though it seemed unfair that Hutch should be the one comforting him. It was Hutch who had died, less than two days before.

******************************

Starsky lay in warm, comfortable darkness. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to wake up to reality. He liked the dream he'd just had, that Hutch was alive again, and with him. A soft gentle hand stroked his face, soothingly. Hutch's hand, a hand he would know in any darkness.

'You're waking up, my Lord. It's all right.'

His eyes flew open. Hutch lay beside him, on his bedroll, propped on one elbow. 'See,' he said. 'It wasn't a dream. I'm back. Back with you all. Look!'

Hutch pointed between their two bodies, and Starsky saw that their baby slept between them.

'Aaron,' he said.

'Aaron,' Hutch agreed. 'That's a nice name. What does it mean?'

'Light,' said Starsky.

'Ah. Light, as in hope? You still had hope, and so I'm back among the living. That's why you are my Lord. Don't fight it. It hurts me when you fight it.'

'I'm not fighting it,' said Starsky. 'But I don't take it for granted. I don't expect it.'

Hutch nodded, then he looked back down at Aaron.

'See. He has your hair,' he said.

'And your eyes,' said Starsky. Then he remembered. A pain shot through his left eye. He touched it, but his fingers encountered only a bandage.

'I'm sorry about that,' said Hutch. 'I wish I could fix it.'

'I wouldn't let you if you could,' Starsky told him. 'It's never a good idea to break a bargain with a God. I made my choice between life with one eye, and life without you. It was no choice at all. I'll be ugly, and no one will want to fuck me, except you, of course. But I don't want anyone but you, so I've lost nothing.'

'You won't be ugly. You'll wear an eye patch, and everyone will be intrigued, and I'll have to fight them off with sticks.'

Starsky tried to sit up, and the tent walls wavered around him. Hutch pulled him back down. 'Just stay where you are, and rest,' he said.

'I can't. I have to piss. And I'm not pissing in that jar, so you can just stick it up your.... Hutch! Stop that.'

He pushed Hutch's hands away, and struggled to his feet. He managed to make it to the tent door without help, but then the earth started to spin far too fast. Hutch sighed, and came to offer his arm for support.

'And you call me a bad patient,' he said.

'I'm fine. I only lost an eye. You were dead, by all the Gods. What are you doing out of bed?'

'I've died before. I'm used to it.'

'What about Aaron?'

'He's asleep. He's in our tent. He'll be fine.'

Hutch helped him to the bushes, and then helped him with his clothes.

'I feel like a baby, who needs his mommy to hold his cock when he pisses,' said Starsky.

'Well, I am a mother now, so this is good practice for me.'

'I'm fine, it's just that everything is flat, like a painting, and when I try to judge distances, my head hurts.'

'Close your eyes,' said Hutch.

'I have only one eye, remember? That's the problem.'

'Well, close it. Now, lean on me. Make me the centre of the world. Let me judge distances. Don't try to move your head, or turn too quickly. If you can't see something properly, don't try to focus, ask me to help. Open your eye, slowly. Just look right ahead. Turn with me. Now, is that better?'

'Yes,' Starsky muttered, darkly.

'Good. This is just for now, Starsky. Until your vision adjusts. It will adjust. Trust me.'

'I trust you,' he muttered again. 'I don't trust my eye.'

News of their awakening had spread throughout the camp, and they were surrounded by their familias, offering love and support. It was wonderful, but Starsky's head soon hurt again.

'By all the Gods!' a voice boomed. 'Let them have some peace.'

The crowd scattered at the prince's command.

'Thanks, Marcus,' said Hutch. 'I don't think he's up to that much love and devotion yet.'

'He's not up to it? What about you?'

'Oh, Hutch is fine,' said Starsky. 'He died before. He's used to it.'

'Ken?' said a new voice. Starsky didn't turn to look. He knew it was Cecil Hutchinson.

'I was asleep when you... returned to us. But the others told me all about it. They say that Odin himself brought you back.'

'Yes,' said Hutch calmly. 'We rode on Sleipnir, and Odin gave Starsky a branch of Loki's fire. It was that fire that brought me back to life.'

Cecil Hutchinson simply stared, speechless for once. What could he say, Starsky wondered? Confronted with the evidence that the Gods didn't think Hutch was worthless? How many men had entered Valhalla, and returned to Midgard to tell about it?

******************************

'Well? What do you think?' asked Ursus, as he ushered them into his new restaurant.

'It's very wild, and... and eclectic,' said Hutch.

Starsky looked around at the wild, eclectic restaurant. He couldn't help but agree with Hutch's assessment, and yet the place had style.

'That's the effect I wanted to have, man,' said Ursus. 'I want people to expect the unexpected. They can come here for new and wonderful gustatory experiences. They might find themselves rubbing shoulders with royalty, like the prince here. Or with someone who has risen from the dead.'

He looked pointedly at Hutch.

'Oh, no you don't,' said the man who had risen from the dead. 'Don't you dare spread that around.'

'I won't,' said Ursus. 'But news like that spreads on its own. And you shouldn't be ashamed of it. You should be used to it. You were lost, and then you were found. You were a man, and then a woman. Now, you're a man again. And you were dead, but now you're alive.'

'Well, I don't want people coming up to me and gaping in astonishment at the zoo animal. That's all.'

'Don't worry,' said Starsky. 'I won't let them do that.'

Ursus shuddered dramatically. 'And with that eye patch, you won't find too many people willing to fight you over it,' he said. 'The word is, you went to the Underworld, and fought Hades for your husband's life. You won, but you lost an eye doing it.'

Starsky smiled. 'That's not quite the way it happened, but let's just leave that as the public story.'

'Stories like that are good for business,' said Ursus. 'Now, I know it looks like I took the money you invested, and bought a lot of unmatched old furniture, and pocketed the rest. But that's not true.'

'No?' said Marcus, laughing.

'No. I've been spending money on things like food from many countries. Recipes from many countries. And I've been inventing a few dishes of my own. Try these!'

He reached over the bar, and brought out a bowl. He plunked the bowl down in front of them.

'What are they?' asked Starsky. 'My eye is still acting up.'

'They're potatoes. A vegetable from the New World. I cut them in thin strips, and fried them in butter. Then I sprinkled them with salt. Try them.'

Hutch picked one up, and popped it in his mouth. 'Hmm,' he said. He tried another, then another. Starsky reached for one. It tasted strange. Salty. Crunchy. He tried another.

'Hey! Leave some for me,' said Marcus. Soon, they had eaten the entire bowl.

'Well,' said Ursus. 'I'll make more, and serve them with beer.'

'Sounds good,' said Starsky. 'But they could be cut even thinner, and you could try more salt. And something else. Something to dip them in. A sauce, maybe?'

Ursus didn't seem at all offended by Starsky's suggestions. He nodded thoughtfully. 'Something to dip them in,' he said. 'I'll try to think of a good sauce for that. And I found another strange foreign dish. A drink this time. I'll be right back.'

He disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a pot of something dark, and aromatic. 'This is from the New World, too. It's made from ground beans.'

'Beans!' said Starsky. 'A drink made of beans?'

'Try it,' said Ursus, again. He poured them all small glasses of the dark brown liquid. Starsky took a sip.

'Whew!' he said. 'Strong stuff. It needs something to sweeten it. Honey, maybe.'

Marcus didn't agree. It tasted fine on its own, he thought. Hutch said it needed cream.

'Cream!' said the others. 'Why cream?'

'I don't know. I just want to try it with cream.'

Ursus went back to the kitchen, and returned with honey and cream. Soon, they were all drinking the new brew, the way they preferred it.

'I'll offer people cream, and honey with this drink,' said Ursus. 'Then, they can have it just the way they want.'

'You want more honey?' Hutch asked Starsky.

'Always,' said his lover, with a smile.

*******************

How could such a tiny baby, only a few days old, produce so much shit, Starsky wondered? And not sweet-smelling shit, either. You'd think, considering the fact his son drank only milk, that his son's shit would be bearable. It wasn't. Starsky held his nose with one hand, as he lifted the smelly diaper off with the other.

'You'd better use both hands, Starsky,' his husband commented.

'You're way over there, beloved. You don't have to smell this.'

'Well, neither do you. The nurse is perfectly capable....'

'I don't care what she's perfectly capable of. I meant what I said. The nurse is fine, and she's necessary too, since neither of us can feed Aaron. But she's not taking care of him all the time. Our baby is going to know his parents. And if you can go through nine months of pregnancy, and all that happened after that, then I can change his diapers. And bathe him. End of story.'

'Fine,' said Hutch. 'Then you can use two hands.'

Starsky groaned, but he let go of his nose and finished changing Aaron. It wasn't too bad, he told himself. After the first whiff, he got used to it. In a way. He'd smelled worse things, though he couldn't remember when, at the moment.

Aaron kicked his tiny feet, and squirmed around happily, once he was free of the diaper. The baby was beautiful, thought Starsky, forgetting his disgust over the shit. Unfortunately, Aaron chose that moment to piss all over Starsky's robe. Hutch laughed. Starsky glared at his husband.

'The nurse is just down the hall,' said Hutch.

'Shut up,' said Starsky.

He washed Aaron, and put on a clean diaper. It wasn't as neat as the nurse's diaper, but he'd get better at it with practice, he was sure. He dropped the dirty diaper in a pail, to be washed by the laundry staff. There was only so far he'd go, he thought, and washing dirty baby clothes was too far.

'There!' said Starsky, proudly. He carried the baby over to their bed, and laid him down beside Hutch. He dropped his robe, and got into bed beside his husband and their son. The baby kicked and made cooing noises for a while. Hutch started singing something in Norwegian, probably a lullaby. Something about the sea, Starsky thought. The sea and the moon. He felt his own eyes closing. This was sweet.

The baby was asleep. He felt Hutch's hands in his hair, and opened his eyes.

'Are you tired?' Hutch asked.

'Not that tired,' said Starsky.

He got up, and carried the sleeping baby over to the other side of the bed, then tucked pillows all around him. Aaron never woke. He usually slept for several hours, once they got him to sleep. Starsky tiptoed around the bed, and got back in beside Hutch. He reached for his husband and pulled him close.

'Starsky?' said Hutch. 'I'm still not sure about this.'

'He's a baby, Hutch,' Starsky told him. 'He can't see further than the end of his nose, right now, even when he's awake. He doesn't know what we're doing, and after all, he wouldn't even be here if we hadn't done it nine months ago, so what's wrong?'

Hutch blushed. 'I don't know,' he said. 'It just seems....'

'He should know his parents love each other. Didn't you sleep with your mother and father?'

'No,' said Hutch. 'With my nurse. For a while. Then, my father said I should sleep alone, after I got sick and started having fits. Seizures, I mean.'

'Alone?' asked Starsky, horrified. 'They made a child sleep alone? A sick child? What about when you had nightmares? That must have been so cold and scary for you. I'm sorry, beloved. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.'

Hutch smiled, tenderly. 'It's not your fault. I'm fine.'

'I know you're fine. You're always fine. You die, and you're fine. You have a baby, and you're fine. Your father.... Never mind. See, Aaron needs to be close to us, and know we love each other, and that we won't let anything hurt him. That's all he cares about. Now, you need to let me take care of you. You've been taking care of me for days now, so it's my turn. And Aaron will sleep right through it all. Just relax.'

Starsky began to kiss his way down his lover's chest. He'd missed the strong muscles, and the big cock that rose up when he stroked it. He swallowed that cock, and sucked on it for a while, enjoying the taste and the texture, while Hutch gasped and moaned and shivered all over.

'Mmm,' Starsky agreed. He pulled his mouth away, and Hutch groaned in protest.

'It's all right,' said Starsky. 'I'm just going to do this instead.'

He rose up over his lover's beautiful blond body, and sank down on his cock, slowly, while Hutch squirmed under him, trying hard not to make too much noise.

'That's it,' said Starsky. 'You stay nice and still, and nice and quiet. Don't make a sound. Just let me do all the work. I love this. I love you. How does that feel?'

'Hot,' said Hutch. 'And tight.'

'Things are going to get hotter, and tighter. But you have to stay quiet and still.'

'Starsky,' moaned Hutch.

'I know. I'm a fierce one-eyed pirate, and I have no mercy on my victims. I've captured you, and I'm ravishing you, for my own pleasure. Was that a giggle? Oh, I'm going to punish you for that.'

Starsky spent some time punishing Hutch, to their mutual satisfaction. Aaron slept through it all. He didn't even notice when Starsky picked him up, and cuddled him close again. They all fell asleep, content in their love.

*******************************

'Looking for someone?'

Starsky turned at the question. The woman was tall, blonde, statuesque and wore a very low cut black gown. Starsky opened his mouth to comment, but the lady put her fingers over his mouth, and shook her head.

'Looking for someone?' she asked again.

Ah, thought Starsky. 'Well, I was looking for my husband,' he answered.

The lady pouted, and sighed. 'You're married? How very sad. But this is Calends. Everything must be forgiven, remember? You could come away with me for a little fun, and then go back to your party, and your husband would have no right to be angry.'

'I don't know,' said Starsky. 'I wouldn't want to be unfaithful to him.'

'But you must get bored sometimes?' asked the lady.

Starsky laughed. 'Bored? With Hutch? You have to be joking. He is the most interesting person I've ever known. I don't know what he's going to do next.'  
Starsky looked down the lady's cleavage, pointedly. 'Or how he's going to look next.'

'Well, if he's such an interesting person, perhaps he wouldn't mind you having a woman on the side, just this once. After all, he doesn't seem to be here, at his own party. So who knows what he's up to.'

'Yes...' said Starsky slowly. 'Who knows? Okay. I'll come with you. But I need to know your name first.'

'My name?' asked the lady.

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Didn't you pick a name?'

'Oh! My name.' She thought a moment. 'You can call me Yvette,' she said at last.

'Yvette? That's nice.'

Yvette grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the Hall, in a very proprietary manner for a lady whom he had just met.

'I think this is far enough away that they can't hear me scream,' said Yvette, as she pulled him into a shed, which just happened to be very far away from the Hall.

'You don't waste much time, do you sweetheart?' Starsky drawled.

'I've heard you're a pirate, who ravishes his victims, and shows no mercy,' said Yvette. 'I don't believe everything I hear.'

'Oh, you can believe that,' said Starsky.

'Prove it to me,' Yvette demanded.

Starsky tossed her down on a convenient pile of leaves, and flung himself on top of her.

Yvette gasped. 'Oh! You're so forceful,' she said.

Starsky managed to keep a straight face, through long practice in the army. Soldiers who laughed at inappropriate times didn't advance very far. He meant to advance far tonight.

'You're sure my husband won't mind if he learns of this?' he asked.

'Shut up about your husband, and ravish me,' said Yvette.

***********************

'We do, of course, take every proposal you bring before us with the very greatest seriousness, Your Highness. But I must confess, this particular proposal has us all worried.'

'I understand, Senator Templar,' said Prince Marcus. 'I am aware of the concern of all the people of Rome, that they not be subjected to policing which takes away their freedom to live their lives as they see fit. I promise you, the Guardians are not such a police force.'

'Then what are they? If we may be allowed to ask?'

'Of course, Senator. You may ask all the questions you wish. Of me. Of the people I have proposed as Guardians. We have no secrets, and we intend to have no secrets. The Guardians are modelled on the Guardians who protected Rome in the past. They were based on Plato's Guardians of the Republic, if you remember?'

'Ah, yes. So, they're not spies, or secret police who will drag citizens out of bed in the middle of the night?'

'No! Definitely not. And it will be one of their duties to see that such things never happen.'

'But why do we need them?' asked Senator Caine. 'Haven't we managed without them for a very long time?'

'Yes. But times do change. Rome has changed. Even the nature of crime has changed. Who would have thought, even a few years ago, that a religious cult would plot against us? And there have been murders which have gone unsolved. You remember, last year? Those men who were murdered and their bodies thrown into the Tiber? We never found out who killed them, though we had suspicions.'

'I thought it must be the Cult,' Senator Templar commented. 'There haven't been more such murders since they were disbanded.'

'That's a distinct possibility, Senator. But it has never been proven. It's not good for Rome, that such public and horrific crimes should go unsolved and unpunished.'

'So, it is that sort of crime you want the Guardians to investigate?'

'Yes,' said the prince. 'We have no interest in interfering with the right of private citizens to find their own justice. But what about people like the victims thrown in the Tiber? They have never been avenged. The City Guard doesn't have the resources to investigate such crimes. I don't have those resources myself, personally. I have far too much on my own table. The Praetorians do the best they can, but they have many other duties, as well. We need the Guardians, to bring justice to those who cannot find it themselves.'

'A very passionate speech, Your Highness. But who are these men, who will bring us this justice?'

'Let me introduce some of them to you,' said the prince. 'I suggest that they be from all walks of life, and from all classes of society. Thus, no one can say the Guardians will be on the side of any class, or any sort of people. I suggest that both men and women should be Guardians. As Plato said before me, both men and women are capable of intelligence, and courage. I want you to consider these two men, for a start. Darius and Gerard were slaves, but their master died, and set them free in his will. They have served in the City Guard for several years.'

Marcus waved the two Guardsmen forward. Darius was calm, and answered all the questions put to him by the Senate with aplomb. Gerard held back. He was less composed in such public situations.

'So, you have no interest in spying on the people of Rome?' asked Senator Caine.

'Certainly not, Senator,' Darius answered. 'We never spied on anyone when we were in the Guard. We think of the Guardians as the City Guard, but with more resources to help people. And we won't be replacing the Guard. We'll be working with them, but we'll have the time to concentrate on investigating crimes. Seeing that people get justice, if they can't get it for themselves. The Guard has to spend a lot of time patrolling the walls, and that's an important function. But it means they don't have much time for detective work.'

'Detective work?' asked Senator Templar.

'Yes, Senator. Trying to discover who committed murders, when the answer isn't obvious.'

'The men in the Tiber,' said the Senator. 'That still troubles you, Prince Marcus?'

'It does,' said the prince. 'And I want to solve that crime. But I don't have a private vendetta, if that's what you think. If I did, I'd go after the murderer on my own, and take my own revenge. But I think it was a crime against Rome, the People of Rome, as well as against me.'

'Granted,' said Senator Templar. 'Are there more men you propose as Guardians?'

'Yes,' said the prince. 'They have been in these chambers before, and helped to bring down the Cult. David Starsky, and Kenneth Hutchinson.'

The Senate Chamber fell silent. Starsky and Hutch rose from their seats at the back of the visitor's gallery, and stepped down on the Senate floor.

'Well!' said Senator Templar. 'I would think you didn't need an introduction, or a resume. But please. Entertain us.'

 

***********************

Hutch was right, thought Starsky. He had never wanted to see Arac's stronghold again. He had tried to forget it belonged to him now. But it was better to face that which you hated and feared. Better to invade it, and drive out the evil spirits, and make it your own. Better to acknowledge it was your own.

So they were standing in the entranceway of the stronghold of an evil veneficus, about to make it their own. The Cult had been destroyed, or driven underground. Any evil spirits hanging around this area of the Apennines had been exorcised. Hutch walked in the door of the prison where he had been tortured and abused, as casually as he would enter a friend's home.

Now was the time for Starsky to exorcise his own demons. He stepped over the threshold. Hutch turned to him, and smiled. 'I love you,' he said. 'This will be a wonderful retreat for the Guardians, once we redecorate.'

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Let's start by getting rid of the old bones lining the walls. And I wouldn't eat anything stored in the pantry. Did you see the murals in the bedrooms?'

'No,' said Hutch. 'They didn't give me a tour when I visited here the first time.'

'I had a look, when I came up here to... take care of some of our prisoners.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Let's just say I wouldn't want to sleep with the artist. I might not wake up again.'

'We'll have the walls stripped, and paint some new murals. Mariko might like to try her hand at that.'

'And you?' asked Starsky.

'Maybe,' said Hutch. 'If I feel inspired.'

Starsky followed Hutch down the stairs, to the dungeon room where he had been chained to the wall for days. It was cold, and damp. The room smelled musty, but all traces of blood had been scoured away. Hutch closed the door.

'When I woke up here,' he said. 'My memory was gone. Mostly. I didn't know my own name. But I remembered you.'

Hutch touched Starsky, over his heart. 'I didn't remember your name, either, but I remembered your soul. Your heart. Your love. Your trust and faith in me. I remembered your passion. How you claimed me. How you fought for me. I knew you would follow me, and kill my enemies.'

'I didn't come in time to stop him from hurting you,' said Starsky.

'Yes, you did,' said Hutch. 'You were here, in this room with me. You gave me the courage to fight, to escape. And then, when I thought he would capture me again, there you were. He ran at the sight of you.'

Hutch reached up and touched Starsky's face. Smoothed his eyebrows, touched the black eye patch that hid the healing scar. 'Make love to me,' he said.

The stone floor was cold, but they spread out their coats. That kept away most of the chill. The warmth of their bodies did the rest.

'Where did he hurt you?' asked Starsky.

'Here,' said Hutch. 'And here.'

Starsky kissed those places. He caressed them with his tongue. He whispered words of love, and tenderness. He coaxed Hutch to enter him, to be rough, and fierce.

'Like a hawk,' said Starsky. 'You are a fierce, wild hawk. A true hawk, ready to defend its mate, and its young. Not like Arac. I dreamt that. In a dream. In a dream. And I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating, in a dream.'

'You have my heart,' said Hutch. 'It belongs to you. And so does this.'

Starsky felt Hutch enter him. He couldn't watch, for once. Usually he watched, while his lover put his long, thick cock inside him. But this time, he wanted only to feel. To feel and to listen. If he closed his eye, he could listen to Hutch's heartbeat, and his breathing, and the coursing of his blood through his veins. He could hear the soft slide of Hutch's cock, in and out of his own body. He could hear Hutch's gasps, and the strangled sounds he made when he came.

He could hear Hutch whisper. Over and over. 'Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.'

He pulled his lover's head down on his shoulder. 'You're welcome,' he said. 'Very welcome.'

*************************

'I have a confession to make,' said Starsky. They were walking around the stronghold, planning where to put the library, the meeting rooms, and so on.

'A confession?' asked Hutch with a grin. 'I already know about Yvette.'

'Who?' asked Starsky, with spurious innocence. 'Never heard of her.'

'If you say so,' said Hutch.

'No, that's not what I want to confess. I did something behind your back... Stop that. I'm serious, Hutch.'

Hutch stopped laughing, and took Starsky's hands. 'I'm listening,' he said.  
Starsky thought that the bedroom, with its horrible murals, was an appropriate place to make his confession. 'I made a new will,' he said.

Hutch looked at him, blankly. 'Is that something that needs to be confessed?' he asked. 'Especially to me? I know nothing about the subject, except that wills decree where your property should go after you die.'

'That's the point,' said Starsky. 'You see, you belong to me, legally. I made a will that sets you free from my family, after my death, so you won't belong to my heir.'

Starsky waited bravely for Hutch's reaction. He'd imagined everything from tears to rage, and a combination of both. He was not prepared for laughter.

'Starsky, that has to be the most useless thing you've ever done. Why waste the paper? We won't ever be separated by death. Don't you remember what the Norns said? And Odin. We belong together. We'll live together. And die together. And we'll be reborn together. Forever.'

'Okay,' said Starsky. He hung his head. 'I'm sorry. But the idea of you belonging to someone else offended me, even if it can never happen.'

'It's all right. Have your will, if it makes you feel better. It's words on paper. We are blood and bone and soul and heart, and we made Aaron. I can live with the will. So, you're forgiven. Don't ask me to sign it, though.'

'I won't,' said Starsky. He felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. He turned to look at the bloody murals that decorated the walls.

'What should we paint in here?' he asked. 'Something more pleasant? The Rape of the Sabine Women? The Sack of Troy?'

'You. Plucking your eye out and offering it to Odin.'

'Hutch! Don't you dare. I lost it in battle with Hades, remember?'

'That's not what I remember,' said Hutch. 'And I remember you offering to give up both eyes for me.'

Starsky turned away, to study the perverted murals. 'It's strange,' he said. 'The painter probably had both his eyes. But what did he choose to see with them? Ugliness and cruelty. If you want to paint that scene, go ahead.'

He felt Hutch's arms come around him from behind. He heard Hutch's sweet voice in his ear.

'The men who raped the Sabine Women. The men who sacked Troy. They weren't heroes, you are,' said Hutch. 'Now, let's go home and choose our new Guardians.'

*** The End ***


End file.
